28o BIRD WATCHING 



"At 4.30 I leave the woods and find the rooks 

 gathered in the same place as yesterday, but in far 

 less numbers. Shortly, a large band flies up and 

 swoops down with all sorts of turns and twists, and 

 turns right over in the air — a striking sight, the air 

 full of the rushing sound of their wings — a bird- 

 storm, a black descending whirlwind. At 4.35 the 

 rooks all fly from the ground into a small clump 

 of fir-trees near. Great numbers of other ones 

 are flying up and settling in a plantation of 

 small firs, fringing another part of the field, quite 

 filling it. The snow seems to drive them from 

 the ground, their conclave to-day must be held in 

 the trees. 



" They are gathering, now, from all parts, filling the 

 trees round about the ploughed land — now all white — 

 flying in flocks about them, then descending into them 

 again. 



" Still coming and coming out of the sunset, specks 

 growing into birds. The stern, snow-covered land- 

 scape, the red glow of the sunset, and the black, 

 labouring pinions against it make a fine winter 

 scene. 



"4.37. — Back at the larches, and only just in time 

 to stand concealed within them, before the rooks are 

 there. All seem coming, a black, flying multitude. 

 They have reached the larches and fly about over 

 them in wide, sedate circles, coming in relays, as 

 last night. Joyous voices — innumerable multitudes — 

 a torrent of wings ! All in a broad, rapid, streaming 

 flight to the larches. They sweep, dash, circle and 

 eddy over them, black flashes in the deepening gloom. 

 They sweep into them, and the snow, swept by their 



